Becoming Science
by C. R. Lane
Summary: Something happened to me that only science can explain. I was never good at science in school. Now, I'm surrounded by it everyday. One day, I was a starving artist, living with my grandmother. The next...well, I'm kind of a lab rat. Guess it just goes to show that your life can change in a flash. Haha...pun intended.
1. Flash From the Past

**Chapter One: Flash From The Past**

Central City Police Headquarters. The building never seemed this towering before. Cars and people whizzing past, wandering to and fro. Though I stare up at the building, my ears are tuned behind me. The noises of the city are many: horns honking, engines racing, the never ending chatter, clipping of heels on pavement. Enough to assure me that my problems are meaningless. My life could end and the earth would spin on. I shiver.

The metal is cold when I reach out to open the door. I wonder how I could possibly feel it through my gloved hand, but pull and walk in anyway.

I haven't seen him in…what has it been? Eight years? Since graduation. Would he even remember me? Probably not. I knew Iris in grade school. We used to play together during recess. But there is only so close that hop-scotch and jump-rope can bring you. Now, even if he has those scraps of memories, my name won't be among them. How could it? It's not like we hung out. We weren't even friends in high-school. He was just the guy that sat one seat over and three seats ahead of me in chemistry junior year. He was just the guy who helped me up when I tripped in the hall on the first day of class freshman year. He was just the guy who gave me a stick of gum in the fifth grade. He was just…... _the_ guy.

Glancing around the lobby of the station, I search for willing eyes. A pair meet mine and cross the room.

"Can I help you?"

I have an "um" trapped in my throat. It wants to come out, but I swallow it. "I'm looking for Barry Allen. Could you tell me where I can find him?" I ask, trying not to sound overly concerned. I pray that he can't see the tremors that ripple through my body. What if Barry doesn't work here anymore? Wouldn't that be embarrassing. My face flushes. It's the only warm part of my body.

"Of course. Just go up the stairs," he points directly ahead of us, "and take a left. It's the last door, end of the hall." One corner of his mouth tugs upward.

"Thank you," I nod and follow my directions. There aren't too many flights- I've climbed more. But they seem endless. No, it's just my nerves. I reach the top and head down the left hall. He wasn't kidding when he said it was at the end of the hall. It's straight in front of me. As it grows closer, I rack my brain. What will I say? Oh gosh. It's right there. The entryway. No. Don't walk in yet, you idiot!

But I do anyway. Then it's like a door closes, shutting out the busyness of my mind. Now, it's just blank. Barry faces away from me, bent over some papers on one of the steel tables in the room. He must not have heard me come in. I remember the thick framed glasses perched on my nose and swipe them off my face, folding them. I shove my hands in my jacket pockets and say the first thing that comes to mind.

"You know; you never did help me with my science project."

He turns around; I swallow hard. A smile spreads all the way to his hazel eyes. I'm relieved that he recognizes me. Maybe I'd made a lasting impression after all.

"Holly?" his eyebrows raise.

"Hi, Barry," I grin, reducing the gap between us to only a few feet. He's much taller than I recall. Naturally tall, not just in comparison to me. It's not hard for most of the population to make it past 5'3".

"Wh-How are you?" he sputters. Normally, I'd have no problem lying and answer that type of question with "Fine." But staring up at him now, I realize that if I want his help I'll have to be honest. I shrug.

"I've been better. How's life been for you?"

Barry inches closer to the table, leaning on it with one arm. "It's been…. interesting." He licks his lips. I kind of feel bad. He has no idea how much more 'interesting' I'm about to make his life. To be honest, it might be crazy enough to blow that scientific mind of his.

"Interesting, huh?" Brushing my fingertips against my forehead, I remember that my bangs are braided and tucked behind my ear.

"Yeah," he almost laughs. It takes me back to crowded hallways and lunch-room tables. When I used to daydream about running my fingers through his thick, dark hair. When I would steal glances at him and slip anonymous valentines in his locker. And, though it doesn't seem possible, Barry has grown more handsome since high-school. None of that matters now. I got over him a long time ago…. I think.

"So, Holly. What brings you here?"

A question I wonder myself. Taking a deep breath, I release it slowly. I never thought that telling the truth would hurt this much. It's okay. I can trust Barry Allen. If I can't, well, then there isn't anything else to do but run. And keep running. This is it. My only hope; as in 'Obi-wan Kenobi' level of only hope.

"Well," I say, finally, "I have a problem and I need your help."

"What is it?" Just as he was so many years ago: concerned, eager to help. He hadn't been able to help the last time I asked him this question- with what happened to his mom and all. Hopefully this time will be different.

"It's kind of a…... science project."


	2. A Rose by Any Other Name

**Chapter Two: A Rose by Any Other Name  
**

Covering my nose with my gloved hands, I rest my elbows on the table. Just a few moments and Barry would have known everything. Instead, I panicked. It took everything I had to stay in this room. I wanted to run. I felt caged, though it would have been of my own making. I was fighting myself again. Once, it was the biggest problem I had. My heart-rate has finally returned to a more normal pace but I'm still shaking.

A coffee cup slides under the tent I've made with my arms.

"Here you go," says Barry, "Now. Start from the beginning." He takes the seat across from me, pulling his own mug closer to his chest.

I sigh. At least, I intended to. It's hard telling what noise actually came out. The scent of my coffee drifts up, calling to me. Bold flavor steadies the trembling.

"It started months ago," I begin, "There was an accident. My roommate, Emily. She would always throw darts at this poster on our wall." Chewing on my lip, I looking everywhere but his face. I don't want to see his reaction. "Emily was always trying these crazy stunts. Throwing over her shoulder, or upside down. That night, she missed. Hit me…...right here," I tap the pulse point on my neck. "She screamed; I don't remember much after that. I woke up on the floor. I wasn't bleeding. There wasn't any blood…anywhere."

"Holly," Barry interrupts me, "it sounds like it was just a dream."

My eyes lock with his. "See, that's what I thought at first. But then I couldn't find her. I still can't. She won't answer my calls. I've tried her parents and they haven't seen her," I pause, swallowing, "And that's not all."

I take off my right glove, and feel around inside the pocket of my leather jacket. My arm slides across the table; he looks confused and pulls away. Opening my hand, I show him a rose bud I'd plucked from a bush I passed along the way. I concentrate, biting the inside of my cheek. Energy tingles, flowing out to each fingertip. The bud unfolds. Deep red spreads out across my hand, covering it. A few moments more and it is fully bloomed. Barry's eyes dart from mine to the rose.

"Wow," is all he manages.

"Yeah," I nod.


	3. Dire Skin Condition

Chapter 3: Dire Skin Condition

"That's pretty much all I can do," I say, shrugging my shoulders.

Barry paces. "This…. this is incredible! There has to be abilities that you just haven't discovered yet." I clench and release my hands. Cracking my wrists, the muscles stretch. Turning my face away, I mash my lips together. He catches me before I do.

"There is, isn't there?"

I scratch my palm. It's gross; it's embarrassing. But, I guess, I'll never find out what it is unless I tell him.

"It's not a superpower. It's just…... weird. It's probably not even related," I wish the excitement would drain from his eyes. It doesn't. "My hands. They're covered in red spots and they… shed? Like an allergic reaction or something. I can't get it to go away. So, I just keep them covered."

"When did the symptoms start?"

"A few days after…the _incident,_ " I wet my lips, "But that couldn't have anything to do with what happened," I pause, watching his eyes dance around the room, "Right?" That was not a rhetorical question. Please, please say I'm right.

Barry just shakes his head, running a hand down the back of his neck. "I don't know, Holly."

"Listen, I have friends at STAR Labs. They should be able to come up with…"

I'm shaking my head, and it hurts. "No! No one else can know. This is why I didn't go to the hospital." A whine escapes.

"They've seen cases like this before. They can help." He really believes this is a good idea. I can't. I won't.

My knees hit the table when I push my chair back; the coffee cups rattle. "I thought you'd understand." Grabbing my coat, I head for the door. Barry calls after me, but it doesn't register.

He wants me to see doctors…. _scientists._ I shiver. They would have a field day with someone like me. They would subject me to any and every test they could come up with. But never to find a cure. Just to study me- like a rat. I've seen enough movies. I can hear their empty promises now. ' _We just have a few more test to run.'_ or _'You can go home soon.'_ and _'It won't be long.'_ I can't live like that. Everything is different. I feel different, but I'm still me.

"Change, Miss?"

I reestablish my surroundings. The ally between Diane's Bakery and some old apartment buildings has always attracted beggars. No one walks this side of the street. It's too close to the bad side of town. I've never pasted my crosswalk before. But I've been approached by the homeless lots of times. No big deal.

"Don't have any. Sorry," I scurry by, but he catches my hands.

"Please,"

"No!" My chest seizes. My hand itches like crazy. His grip is like quicksand, pulling me in. Rocking on my heels, I try to rip myself loose. My hand flies free- dust fills the air. My glove stays in his grasp. A raged breath and he collapses. No movement, no breathing. Just a lump on the sidewalk in a cloud.

My hand is on fire. It's red like it had been stripped clean. Dust speckles my sleeve and sticks to my fingertips. It looks like… skin. It's _my_ skin.

No. I didn't do anything. I didn't _do_ anything. I take a deep breath, walking backwards until I turn and bolt. The right thing to do is stay- to help. But I can't hear common sense over the pounding in my ears. I flee. I sob. Because I just killed a man.


End file.
